“I was hoping we might get together and talk about that.”
Inwardly I groaned, not only at the idea of substituting my desired date with chocolate chip ice cream for a boring chat with David, but I didn’t want to see him at all—ever. Fates being as they were, however, David sat on the school board and was therefore technically my boss. As much as I wanted to throw my phone out the window, I chose instead to mentally berate myself for racing around the dune but managed to speak civilly. “You know, David, this really isn’t a good night. I’ve had a long day, and I’m bushed.”
“I’ll bring you a bottle of wine and a rub your feet for you. How would that be?”
I tried to decide whether he was being friendly, or friendly and decided neither one was the preferred option. “Can I take a rain check on that?”
“How about tomorrow evening?”
I struggled for an excuse, but in a small town your whereabouts were tracked, and I knew I was out of luck. “Why don’t I meet you at Coffee Grounds about nine tomorrow morning? I don’t have to be to work until noon.” I didn’t want him in my cottage. I didn’t want him becoming that familiar.
“Well, I suppose we can, but wouldn’t it be easier to talk at your place? Or, you can come over to my house.” He left the suggestion dangling there, much like Marie Antoinette’s overhead guillotine.
“The Coffee Grounds at nine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I tapped off on the phone before he could get me to agree to anything else. I drove the long way home, staring at the tourists much like they stared at the lake. From time to time, a couple would venture into my piece of the beach. Technically speaking, it wasn’t my beach, it was open to the public. That said, most intelligent people would recognize that if the house is on the beach, the sand between it and the water is probably rather proprietary. It really wasn’t so bad that they came to sit in the sand; it was when they knocked on the door and asked to use my bathroom that I drew the line.
I eventually made my way home through the drifting tourists. I could almost taste that ice cream, and I still had three or four groups of strangers to get through. Finally, I pulled up to my cottage and found a young boy sitting on my step. “Little boy? Are you lost?”
He didn’t answer but looked up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart broke and as much as I wanted to cuddle him, society had become funny about things like that and I resisted the temptation. I wanted to have a little boy just like him one day. “What’s your name?”
“Stevie,” he said.
“Stevie, do you know your last name?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t, what?” I asked, puzzled.
“My name is Stevie Don’t.”
I laughed aloud. I could only imagine what Stevie’s mother went through each day. “Well, I’ll just call you Stevie for now. Can you tell me what your mother’s name is?”
“Mom.”
I was an idiot. What was I doing in teaching? “Good. Stevie, you sit right there, and I’m going to call someone who will help you find your mom.”
I lifted my phone and cell that naturally, had no signal there. Now I was in a mess. I couldn’t put Stevie in my car to drive around to the far side of the dune because that could be considered kidnapping. I couldn’t leave him where he was sitting because that could be considered abandonment. My mind reeled with indecision. That was when fate stepped in.
A man was walking toward the cottage but at a rapid pace. I could tell he wasn’t a tourist; he was in jogging shorts and a pair of sunglasses. I called to him. “Excuse me…”
His head swiveled slightly to look in my direction and his pace slowed to a walk. “Oh, my God, Mina, is that you?”
Now, what had I gotten myself into? I hesitated before I answered and, in that space, he pulled off his sunglasses and spoke first. “It’s me, Brice. You remember, the senior prom?”
“No way. That can’t be you!”
“Why not?”
“Well, you don’t look like a nerd, for one thing. And you're friendly, for a second thing.”
“Was I that bad?”
“I thought so.”
“Sorry, but I was probably a pretty big jerk to you. I don’t blame you for not remembering me. Imagine running into you like this, excuse the pun.”
“Brice it’s good to see you. I just came home and found this young man sitting on my step. He tells me his name is Stevie, but we don’t seem to have a handle on his last name, and so far, his mother’s name is Mom. I don’t have a phone signal from here, and I couldn’t leave him behind while I drove to find one. I wonder if you have your phone on you?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, shaking his head. “No signal for me, either.”
“I see that you are out for a run. Could you keep an eye on your phone and when you get a signal, call Officer Dutton downtown for me? He generally handles the missing person cases. Tell him I live in Rose Arbor, he’ll know me. In the meantime, I’ll sit right here with Stevie and wait.”
“Sure, no problem. Why don’t you give me your phone number so that he can reach you?”
I gave him my number before it occurred to me that the officer couldn’t reach me when I had no signal, so I knew it was Brice’s way of extracting information for a future date. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that but given the fact that I was scheduled to have coffee with David the next morning, there wasn’t much Brice could do that would be worse.
He nodded his thanks and trotted off, weaving in and out of the clusters of tourists as he went. With one eye on Stevie, I went inside and got him a cold drink and then sat on the step next to him waiting for someone to arrive. Officer Dutton pulled up shortly after that. He went through the same questions I had with Stevie and laughed at the same point that I had. It was okay for Stevie to ride in his car, so the pair left promptly in search of Stevie’s mom.
I went inside and eyeballed the freezer door. Brice had looked good, really good. Maybe it was a good night to skip the ice cream. Instead, I headed for the shower and turned on the small portable TV in my bedroom.
An hour or so later I was startled awake. The TV was still on, but the movie had finished, and the screen was just showing the DVD menu. Then came the knocking on the door again. Oh, geez. Not another one. I tried to ignore it, but a few seconds later, the knocking came again. It was sundown, and I was having trouble orienting myself to the time of day. I made my way to the door and opened it.
There stood Brice. “Hi. It looks like I woke you up. Sorry, just stopped by on my way back to make sure you found a home for Stevie.”
My mouth dropped open. Brice had removed his sunglasses and now stood close before me. He had changed so much from the skinny bully I remembered. I’d failed to notice a lot when he’d been standing at the end of the drive earlier. I missed the fact that his shirtless body was firmly muscled and tanned, a scheme of subtle, mythical tattoos applied across his chest. His eyes, no longer squinting with mischief, were a deep mahogany brown and with a start, I realized that he and Marcy had the same beautiful eyes.
“Still half asleep?”
I was startled by the deep resonance of his manly voice. There was no nasal whine of a brat who threatened to set loose a snake on me, but a sonorous bass that matched the size of his Adam’s apple. I wondered briefly if what they said about a man with a bulging Adam’s apple also was master of an over-sized bulge between his legs. I heard him chuckle.
“I’m sorry. Yes, still half-asleep. It’s been a long day, and I was watching a movie and fell asleep.”
His gorgeous eyes took on a look of mirth. “Must have been a good one.”
“Listen, come in. I’ll make us a cup of coffee, and we can catch up a little,” I said as I stood back and held the door open to him. He looked doubtful for a moment and then seemed to make his mind up with a nod as he brushed past me to come in. As his arm grazed my unbound breasts beneath my sleep shirt, my nipples sprang to life, and I hurriedly looked around for somet
hing with which to cover up. I remembered that Marcy had told me he’d become a doctor, but to me, he was still Brice in the back seat of his uncle’s car. Somehow, the thought of him touching my nipples now carried much less alarm and far more allure.
This is Marcy’s brother, you idiot! Remember that!
Brice stood there, looking around. “Go on, have a seat.” I motioned to the sofa. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
“You wouldn’t have something cold, would you?”
I thought for a moment. “Only iced water.”
“Perfect.”
“Coming right up!”
We settled in the cramped living room that I preferred to think of as charming. Brice’s long legs muscled and tanned from his jogging, spread into the empty floor space between us. I was sitting opposite him in a rather small wicker chair, which put me at eye level with his, well, crotch. There! I’d let myself think the word, and even as I did it, chills went down the small of my back into my own… crotch. The difference was, his legs were splayed wide open, while mine were tightly clenched because I wasn’t wearing any panties beneath my sleep shirt. Without thinking, I leaped to my feet and had to step over his extended legs so that I could raise a window. It was suddenly very hot in the room. I took a deep breath of the lake breeze and turned around. Brice was staring at my legs, his mouth barely open. I realized then that I’d leaned forward to push the window up and that had the effect of raising the back of my sleep shirt. I recognized lust on his face and knew I’d just exposed my buns. He likely thought I’d done it on purpose. Who knows? Maybe subconsciously, I had.
“So,” I began, sitting back in the chair and keeping my knees locked together. “Marcy tells me you’re a doctor now?” I knew the words sounded lame as soon as they left my mouth. He probably thought that I was like all the other girls who wanted to marry doctors. I stumbled on in my race to be the world’s biggest fool. “Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of…” I finished lamely.
“Ashamed of? I don’t understand.”
“No, neither do I, Brice. I’m sorry. I must still be hung over from sleeping, and then, well, it’s hot in here and…” I heard myself lumber on in awkward excuses that made no sense whatsoever. I decided it would be better if I kept my mouth shut.
Thank God Brice was more self-possessed than I. “To answer your question, yes, I am. That’s why I came back to Bretherton Bay, to set up a practice. But,” he took a few deep gulps of the water, and I found myself fascinated by that huge Adam’s apple, bobbing as he swallowed. “…before I set up a practice, I’d like to just roll up my sleeves and get back into the community, so I’ve accepted a staff position at Bretherton Bay General, in the ER.”
“Oh, how nice,” I tried and immediately retraced those verbal steps. “I mean, not nice that people need to come to the ER, but nice that you’ve come back home to practice. Why is it that they call it a practice, anyway?” Well, that did it. With those thought-provoking, idiotic words I’d officially become the world’s biggest fool.
Brice’s dark eyes twinkled at the spectacle of my obvious discomfort. “I remember,” he said in a softer, familiar tone.
I looked across the small space directly into those eyes. “Remember?” I could feel a flush rising in my cheeks as I anticipated what he was about to say.
“I think you know. You told me one time, in the car my uncle lent me, to come back when you grew up, as I recall.”
I knew I had that deer in the headlights look at that moment.
He chuckled a sexy sound from deep in that marvelous throat and then uttered the words that would keep me awake most of the rest of the night. “I’m glad I waited, it was worth it.” His eyes sank to my crotch, and I felt flames engulfing everything about me that was feminine. Suddenly, he lunged to his feet, and I nearly toppled over as the aura of his body stretched to its full height—surely six-foot-three or more. He held his hand out toward me, and I reached upward, thinking he meant to shake my hand. Instead, he pulled me to a stand and without letting go of my hand, pulled me smoothly toward him until my erect nipples strained through the fabric of my sleep shirt to touch his bare chest. He lowered his head and pulled me into the deepest, most sensual kiss I’d ever shared. When he let me go, I stumbled, and his arm snaked out to steady me. “Woah, you okay?”
True to form I answered, “Did they teach you how to do that in medical school?”
He grinned, his white teeth contrasting with the depth of his tan. “You’d be surprised what I learned how to do,” he whispered and then he turned and within a few steps, was out my door and into the night. I swayed, gripping the back of the sofa for balance before moving to close the door behind him. I floated back to my bed and tried to sleep. Mahogany brown eyes and the implication of a huge Adam’s apple kept me awake.
Chapter 4
Brice
The sun streamed through the apartment window, muted slightly by the sheer curtain that ruffled in the lake breeze. I stretched and then sat up to begin the full set of stretches I did each morning. My mind was already alert and playing hell with me.
I felt a little guilty. I’d let Mina believe that our meeting had been accidental. In truth, Marcy had let it drop, oh, so casually, that Mina was living in her great-aunt’s cottage. Marcy, the mischievous, was transparent as hell, not that I was complaining.
I saw her standing on that step, the little boy next to her and for a split second, it was like a mirage. I never let on to Marcy, but Mina had been continually in the back of my mind since that night we went out. She’d been so right with her little smart-ass comment about waiting for her to grow up. Waiting made the goal all the richer. Jesus, then when she’d reached over me to put up the window, all innocent and not realizing those twin cheeks of hers came peeking out at me I’d instantly gone hard, and part of the reason I kissed her was to see if she’d noticed. Okay, so I’ll admit, a part of me wanted to end up in her little bedroom. I’m human.
Mina was different. She was unreachable; the girl all the guys whispered about conquering. Every so often one of the idiots would claim that he’d had her and the other guys would knock the shit of him, just because her reputation had to remain clean. She was like Betty Grable; the pin-up girl for WWII soldiers. It gave them someone to fight for.
My thoughts drifted back to her sweet cheeks, and I was growing hard again, just imagining what it would be like to feel those in my hands. Damn! I wanted to split her legs wide, pull her feet around my neck by grabbing that smooth, tight ass and opening her wide to explore with my tongue.
I was making myself fucking miserable with my thoughts. Restless and aroused, I piled into my car. The upholstery was already searing, which meant the day could only get worse. I’d rented a small apartment over the top of one of the gift shops that catered to the tourists. It was temporary until I decided what to do and now, I was considering building quarters in the development Todd had proposed. Over the years I’d only made quick stops home with the parents for holidays, so I decided to take a tour around and reacquaint myself with my hometown.
Bretherton Bay wore her tourism like a new set of Easter clothing. Extended canopies and colorful tables with chairs appeared on sidewalks outside restaurants, bike rental shops sprang up in converted gas stations, and in general, the town put on its visual best. That made it fun for the guests, but a little miserable for the residents. They tended to hibernate to avoid the traffic, blatant commercialism and summer residents from Chicago. Tourists came to escape the heat and often violent, dreary landscape of their urban lives.
I turned the corner from Washington onto Lakeside and saw a man washing a car in his drive. It wasn’t just any car; it was the same make and color of my uncle’s car, the one he’d lent me that night with Mina. I saw a square of orange lying on the grass next to the drive and realized he was polishing it up for sale. The sign was lettered and waiting. I guided my car to the curb and got out, ambling toward him casually so he wouldn’t get alarmed. It was how peop
le walked in summertime Bretherton Bay.
“Hello there!” I called to him in a voice loud enough to top the sound of spraying water. He looked up and nodded. I pointed to the For Sale sign lying in the grass. “You selling that car?”
He released the handle on the hose sprayer, and it was suddenly silent. “Sure am. It’s a good car, I just don’t need it. Belonged to the wife’s aunt who passed last year.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
He shook his head and beckoned me closer. “Nah, look all you like. I’ll be right back; the key is inside.” While he was gone, I opened the door and saw that the interior was the exact color and it had the same bench seat as the old blue Chevy. It was a déjà vu experience. I didn’t get in; not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew I’d get hard as hell again and the guy selling it would think I was a pervert. I had to be conscious of my reputation in town—a concept new to the previous version of Brice Davidson.
“Does it run?” I asked, only because that was an acceptable and expected question when buying a car that age.
“Sure does,” he answered, sliding behind the wheel and starting it up. It purred without unusual noises or fluids spurting out from beneath the hood. It would do. I’d take care of whatever needed repair. I retrieved the sign from the lawn, noting the price. “I can work with you on that a little,” he offered before I said another word.
“Nope. It’s a fair price. Anyway, I know where you live,” I said, winking and holding out my hand. “Brice Davidson,” I introduced myself.
His brow raised. “You aren’t the new doctor, are you? The kid made good I keep hearing about?”
I laughed. “The same, or at least I hope so. I’ll take the car. Think I can come by later with a buddy to drive it home?”
“No problem,” he said, holding out the key. “Let me get the title.”
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